Suspicions
by Rickashay
Summary: The Dark Lord was hidden in plain sight, cultivating young minds whilst teaching in Hogwarts. He had spotted his first follower of the younger generation, Harry Potter. One-Shot, Dark, pre-slash, male/male, Death Eater Harry, unrequited love, not really romance. Rated T


Title: Suspicion

Authoress: Rickashay  
Genre: Romance

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,702

Warning(s): Death Eater, dom/sub relationship, unrequited love, pre-slash (kind of), male/male.

Character(s): Tom Riddle/Harry Potter

Summary: The Dark Lord was hidden in plain sight, cultivating young minds whilst teaching in Hogwarts. He had spotted his first follower of the younger generation, Harry Potter. One-Shot, Dark, pre-slash, male/male, rated T

A/N Another "What If" thought that entered my mind, if Lucius Malfoy had tried finding Voldemort. So he returned after three years of being a spirit.

* * *

Death…

It was Tom's greatest weakness.

It was easy it exploit, a reminder of his mother, a jab in his direction, a look, and the color of green.

It was true that the boy signified all of Tom's failures, all of his fears.

The boy moved across the floor, bringing his eyes to the level of Professor Riddle.

Red eyes and even from far away there was evidence of the sacrifices he had to make to gain immortality.

It was one of the many reasons why he was there, because without a horcrux, Harry Potter would have cast his body into damnation. Yes, he had been in spirit form for nearly three years before finding Lucius Malfoy, and consequently, the diary.

Slowly crawling the ladder of politics with his fingertips, it was when he was about to get to the very top that Dumbledore had offered him the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was too tempting to refuse and perhaps it was an attempt or a strategy to keep his friends close but his enemies even closer.

In part…he didn't even care.

It was easy to cultivate young minds and build his army anew with easy access to Hogwarts.

Harry Potter was the perfect candidate to be one of his firsts from the younger generation. It was the prophecy, yes, among many other things, but the child was brilliant. It was a sort of brilliance unlike his own, not just intelligence but an innate talent and love for magic. The boy moved across the room elegantly, watching them all with green eyes and a smiling face.

It was a façade…

Placed upon his visage to confuse and entrap his enemies.

He had seen the worst of the boy dealing with Snape, toe-to-toe as they glared down (or up in the boy's case), shouting and screaming. It was a loss of control and the Death Eater was easily reprimanded. It was the brilliance in the boy's eyes, his stance, the clenching of his fists, and the magic that crackled inside him.

It spoke of danger…

Of revenge…

Retribution…

Fury.

It was beautiful and nearly the same brilliance that he, himself, possessed.

It was spectacular and even in dueling; there was no doubt that the boy was capable of amazing things. He just needed the right push.

"Mr. Potter, see me after class." The word was spoken above the heads of all the students, even when green eyes flashed to meet his red.

Green and red…opposites on the color wheel and yet, they were compatible.

The child would be a perfect addition to the Death Eaters…

"Yes, sir," the tone said insolence while the words did not.

When the boy swung his book-bag over his shoulder and slumped in his seat, the fourteen-year-old bowed his head. It was a submissive posture, but the angry eyes that peeked from his fringe spoke of rebellion.

He would go down kicking and screaming.

"Tell me, Harry," the boy's eyes met his, "why you feel so much animosity toward me?"

"I don't."

Stubbornly, he said nothing else. Even when the Professor lifted his eyebrows in encouragement to elaborate, the boy persisted in his silence, only scraping the toe of his trainers against the floor.

"Than why do you think you can escape punishment for cheating?" He placed the essay in front of the boy, incredulously obvious in Granger's handwriting and even writing style.

The boy's jaw jutted forward, green eyes flashing. "I didn't cheat."

Liar…

Tom smiled prettily, teeth gleaming and with eyes narrowed like a snake's. It appeared even more snake-like when smiling, the resemblance with his familiar uncanny.

"You think I don't know a liar when I see one?" Tom murmured coldly, the soft tones echoing in the room, magic tingling in the air.

He stepped forward, the boy tilting his seat back nervously, and he could see gooseflesh break out on the boy's arms.

"I'm not a liar!" Magic seeped from Harry's pores and righteous fury glittered in those eyes. "You're the liar! You think you can pretend and lie to everyone, some of us know who you are! We won't let you get away with anything!"

"Really?" Riddle drawled out, moving closer so that they shared the same breathing, the smile curling further and a tad bit sadistic. "And who am I?"

"You make my scar hurt." It was said childishly, almost whining.

Red eyes flashed to the lighting bolt adorning the boy's head, a trophy more than anything else. It was a symbol of the boy's survival from the attack by Lord Voldemort, beating the Killing Curse… and surviving the odds. It was tempting to reach out and trace the outline of the lightening bolt, but instead he took note of the sweaty palms, the beads of moisture rolling down the side of his head.

It was tempting…

"Curious," Tom said blandly, but his fingers itched.

Eyes narrowed…dark and the green fading away in favor of showing his fury. "That's all you are going to say, "curious"?" Harry's fingers moved into quotation marks, an unattractive sneer curling his mouth.

"There is nothing to say."

Cool…

Collected…

Posh…

_You are above this…_

"Why?"

Finally, there was confusion in those bright eyes.

"What would you do in my position?"

"I would obliviate me." It was spoken plainly by the boy, matter-of-factly, and the challenge in his green eyes vocalized everything unsaid.

Tom Riddle laughed, filled with mocking and burning his throat, a chuckle that rumbled the room with power. Magic stirred at his fingertips and bowed at his might. "Why would I? You are merely a boy? How could you possibly stop me?"

"You're Voldemort…"

_Gryffindors…it would be entirely too easy to kill him for his stupidity._

_But he could be taught subtly._

"Was…I was Voldemort," he said slyly, watching the boy's eyebrows furrow forward. He could see the wheels turning, could see when he reached that realization, and the boy gasped aloud.

"You…you aren't?"

"I am not an active player in war, at the moment. I wish to…" a pause, hesitation, but it could work. _Yes, it could. _"I do not wish to destroy the Wizarding World in order to save it."

"But my parents -!"

"Are dead. It was necessary and unfortunate for the future that they could have held for the Wizarding World. But they had chosen their side, freely."

"But -!"

"Their only importance was populating this world, to give birth to powerful, new wizards. The halfbloods were to help breed with the ever decreasing of purebloods and isolating the increasing of mudbloods by breeding with superiors. It was merely consequential of picking their sides too soon. They had given the world one child," red eyes pierced his insides, "and so they have done their part." It was spoken so plainly, lingering in the air between them, frigid and scorching at the same time.

"I thought you hated halfbloods?" the confusion was delicious, the doubt.

Soon…

"That would be hypocritical. The unfortunate muggle blood in me was purified many years ago, making me purer than even the Malfoys, who have the…unfortunate habit of blending with halfbloods. The benefits, however, outweigh the negatives. Mudbloods are different as their genetics are tainted. In your case, both of your parents were magical and the muggle blood would hopefully be diluted in your pool of genetics." Tom Riddle smiled at the explanation, the words spoken in the spur of the moment, ringing in the room. He reached out to grasp the boy on his shoulder.

The boy stepped away, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"You should be getting to class."

Their eyes flickered to the clock hanging above the professor's desk…

The boy cursed and ran…book-bag slung over his shoulder. He did not leave, however, without shooting one last glance at Tom Riddle, who crossed his legs and leaned against his desk, smiling.

The man did not look like he could be in his sixties or even seventies.

The man was dangerous…something dark and menacing in the air.

But the feeling of exhilaration, of attraction, stung much more than malice.

* * *

It was incredibly easy for Tom Riddle to find him, too easy. It was almost as if he simply knew where he was hiding, whether underneath his cloak or tucked in the corner of the library, those red eyes haunted his moves. Shadows danced where the man was, they caved into his power, and Harry could see how some of the girls in his year could fall for the man. It was enticing when magic played upon your skin, drawing you and tempting you to _cave_.

Magic was beautiful…

Tom Riddle never stopped him again. Sometimes though, those red eyes rested on them in the Great Hall, and followed him as they moved in the crowd, everyone jostling each other to get to their next class. At times, he could imagine a hand on his elbow, reminding him that his professor existed, and his scar would send a shock of pain through his head.

_Say not a word…_

_Not to anyone…what you know._

Compulsions were strong, but Harry could resist them easily, even from someone as powerful as Tom Riddle. It was like an annoying instinct, buzzing in his ear, but when flicked away it would go flying.

It was a test…

He said not a word…

Soon, it was hard to believe that Tom Riddle would have ever been Lord Voldemort, and slowly, very slowly, he ceased to even put those two names together.

Tom Riddle was Tom Riddle…

That was all that mattered…

The pleasure of a smile that shot through him was harder to ignore.

Years had passed until his sixth year swept upon him like a hurricane, sixteen.

The interest Tom Riddle showed in him had not dimmed and instead increased. Sometimes, he imagined that the other students noticed who shadowed his steps, some of them hurrying out of his way. Harry did not realize that his magic had the same effect that Riddle's had, the presence and strength.

No one said anything about Harry withdrawing into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The only warning was the subtle pressure against his head from Dumbledore, who seemed to understand _who _Tom Riddle really was.

It was during his summer that he realized how extensive Tom Riddle's obsession with him reached, how extended. The man followed him when he needed to run errands for Aunt Petunia, a hand grasping his elbow as he led him away to enjoy a late lunch.

It was recruiting.

Courting followers…

The man seemed fixated to win Harry's loyalty, and even going so far as to merely chat during those little meetings, his eyes always shifting to rest on his forehead before they bid each other adieu. The heat in his forehead caused him to be irritable, but Tom's presence was soothing as well, in an odd way. Deep inside him, he knew who this man was, knew the ambitions, knew that it was just a game, and knew that Tom Riddle would entrap him and the game would be over.

He knew it just as well as he knew the lips that hovered over his forehead, a hand placed on his back in an awkward hug.

It was an addiction…

It was suspicious, but even during that first meeting their obsession with each other had only grew, their eyes meeting each other's without fear, naked with the ability to pierce the exterior.

So he allowed it…

Allowed a brief touch on his elbow, guiding him away, and allowed the escort to balls and festivals of all manners. Even with the Yule celebrations, Tom Riddle had swept upon him like a twister, and brought him along, blending with the pureblood society easily and inconspicuously.

But eyes landed on his small form with suspicions clouding their thoughts, they never said anything to their Dark Lord.

It did not stop them from saying such things to Harry's face and behind Riddle's back.

Even with such a common name, the uncommonness of Tom Riddle brushed aside any nefarious thoughts. He had taken the mantle of Lord Slytherin and no one spoke out against him without facing serious retribution. It was not just the title, but the raw power that could cause an earthquake, could sweep through the lands causing destruction and desolation.

"Harry?"

Red eyes gleamed in the light, a smile curled on his lips.

It was just a game to him…

But he had no idea whom he was dealing with…

Even with his sudden appearance, Harry could feel his toes curl. Butterflies erupted in his stomach and he could not help the smile that brightened his eyes.

"Yes, sir?"

Red eyes, cold and collected, smirked in the dim light of Harry's apartment, newly acquired with Riddle's help. It was still bare, with only a bed in his bedroom and the necessities in his cupboards. The charms and wards surrounding the area needed to upkeep a house, placed by the Professor as well.

Harry was grateful…even if he knew the intentions were anything but good.

Politics…

He could safely say he despised politics with very fiber of his being.

"I was just checking on you to see how you were settling."

Tom's silhouette highlighted against the doorframe, his tall and lean build a shadow but the eyes that peeked out.

Red eyes…

Gleaming red eyes…

Even then, Harry could feel the heat of desire.

Those eyes, once again, stopped at his forehead, which welcomed Tom's presence with a throbbing, dull ache. It had adjusted to the strong presence and the only hint that something was off being the eyes that always, always gazed at the mark with a thoughtful, soft expression.

"I'm fine," Harry smiled, "It's quiet, but nice."

"You are adjusting well to being alone?" Tom kept his eyes straight, still the same considering expression on his face.

"It's better than being at my relative's house, Professor." Harry shrugged lightly and ignoring when he turned that Tom followed him to the kitchen. He had almost expected that the man would have left. "Would you care for some tea?"

Red eyes peered into his own, he could feel the lingering effects of the mind arts, and knew that whatever special connection they had made it entirely too easy for him to be in Tom's grasp. "That would be fine."

The nervousness lingering in the room still prevailed, even though Tom Riddle stationed himself behind him, it only increased the tension.

"I've been wondering, Harry, what your plans are when you graduate Hogwarts."

"Are you speaking as a professor, sir?" The words slipped from his mouth before he could catch them, wondering why those eyes seemed to be stuck on the back of his head.

"I'm only interested in your future plans."

This time Harry did turn around and faced the Dark Lord, the eyes that trailed from his forehead to the green eyes. Tom smiled. "Or are you speaking as the Dark Lord?"

The effect was immediate as Tom stepped forward, invading his personal space. "I am merely curious."

_He's trying to dominate me..._

"You are suspicious," Harry choked out. He resisted the urge to cross his legs and turned away from the professor, his instincts telling him to let it go, to cave in, and to submit.

"Can you blame me?"

Magic stifled the lights, even the heat for the teakettle suddenly cooled, and his back hit the edge of the counter.

"No, I can't."

"I want to know whether I will need to eliminate any rebellion," the words were said carelessly, without thought to what it could mean.

It was so straightforward.

The man was smiling, white teeth glinting in the dark light.

"I couldn't rebel, not even if I wanted to," and it was a confession.

A damning confession, since the sudden absence of magic warmed the house, and Tom's chuckle of mockery rang in his ears. "It is a gift to entice and tempt," red eyes gleamed, "and you are hardly an exception, Harry."

"It's just a game, right?"

Suddenly leaning even further, lips brushed against his forehead. "Oh, Harry…it's so much more than that. It's about power."

* * *

It was damning, Tom Riddle had damned him, and the obsession continued.

Suspicions still clouded the atmosphere, but Harry knew that his intentions were more of a Lord and a potential follower, a politics ally.

A Lord was blessed by magic, granted to lead, and it was common knowledge that despite being the boy-who-lived, the boy was too submissive for that type of work. Political savvy and social skills were not enough, not even his power, it was power combined with ambitions, and the drive to accomplish those ambitions.

Harry had none of that drive.

Riddle had plenty for the both of them, even Dumbledore, in part, had some of the qualities that made a Lord. With the exception of his birthright, the heir of Gryffindor, he would not hold the mantle of either the Lord of the light or dark. It was enough for him.

Turning seventeen was a large turning point for him, considering he had no representatives to replace him as the heir of Potter and Gryffindor, no one else could stand in for him in court. So he did not attend his seventh year at Hogwarts. Instead, his apartment became his home.

Many times through the weeks of his inheritance, he spotted a snake hiding in the corners of his house, beneath his bed, and amongst the furniture. There was no doubt on who had sent it, but Harry could not find it in himself to send the beast away.

He wanted to at least keep some of his secrets…

Tom Riddle would approach him soon enough with an offer to join his followers, a mark would be granted, undoubtedly, and he would be entrapped in a lifetime of servitude and solitary.

It was obvious…

It was during winter that it had finally occurred, the snow blanketing the grounds and their breathing allowing a thin stream of mist in the air. Bundled up and still shivering in the cold, it then that the man appeared from his side.

He had not even seen him until it was too late.

The man had caught him before he had headed back into his office, early one morning, a tea in his hand and papers in the other. Suddenly, a large, thin hand had curled around his wrist and the pop of apparition sounded.

He knew immediately when he looked up and met red eyes what this meeting would entail. So he pushed him away, scrambling from him and knowing when the hand wrapped around his waist in a vice-like grip that it was useless. His back to a chest...

"Come now, Harry, I won't harm you." Tom breathed in his ear, his nose red with the cold. He continued to struggle and only stilled when the man leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "I promise."

"You promise?" doubt crept into his tone.

"Yes, I promise."

Even though his mind screamed at him to rebel, he could feel his body relax against his old professor, could feel the hand that rested on his lower back, and could feel the eyes that immediately peered at his scar.

His hair had grown too long that it had covered the scar, thwarting the man should he ever come in contact with Riddle again.

He rebelled in ways that he could…

The Dark Lord…

"You, of course, know why I am here?" The man began, seating himself in a booth. It was a muggle restaurant that served breakfast, and Harry could feel the eyes that watched him, amused with the nervousness.

"I have some ideas."

The chuckle that followed forth was surprising, but welcoming. Tom Riddle was in a good mood and nothing would diminish it.

"Stop playing around with me, Harry. I've been waiting for this answer for years, so tell me," his fingers met each other, "will you join me?"

It had haunted Harry's whole life, the feeling of being incomplete, something that was missing, and he had thought it was magic, understanding it, tasting it. But there was still a void in him, even with magic, which he had always felt.

It wasn't until Tom Riddle made an appearance in Surrey, standing outside his house and obviously patiently waiting for him. He had been pushed outside by his Aunt, worried about whether the neighbors would see the well-dressed man, who was obviously wearing a robe and with a wooden stick in his hand.

It had caused him to gasp, he could felt he magic curling to him, beckoning him, and his scar had throbbed with a dull ache, as if missing something, someone.

It had damned him.

"Yes, I will."

Tom smiled.

Even though he knew it was impossible to have a relationship with the Dark Lord, who thought it was all a game to conquer. He had needed to accept, because some part of him knew that the man in front of him was the missing link.

If he had asked, then, Tom would have told him the truth.

Harry was his horcrux.

So Tom loved him for the impossible, a human horcrux, but it was a selfish love.

Unfortunately, that piece lodged inside Harry Potter would not allow him to forget the rest of their soul, and to him it was a selfless love that he felt.

Before they left the building, lips pressed against his forehead, the smile felt more than seen.

He knew, oh he knew…

It was damning.

Still, the coil of desire was felt strongly.

Tom could use that to an advantage…

From the gleaming of red eyes, he knew those feelings that lingered and festered, bruised and scarred over.

It was when there would be a denial that he could use it to his advantage.

Some _love_…

In return for obedience…

"I'll become a Death Eater."

Even if it led to his death…

* * *

A/N Thank you so much for reading! Another one-shot to enjoy, longer and hopefully more in depth. Tom Riddle is sexy, really sexy...Harry is just too cute. I hope you enjoyed it!

The information about the Malfoy family marrying halfbloods is from Pottermore, (GO Ravenclaws!) Under the "Malfoy Family".


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